Log Post. Giovanni + Badou.
Who: Giovanni and Badou.
What: Bitchfight what.
Where: The City. A random toy store.
When: After Badou and Haine comes back from America. The day after, was it?
Why: Because Badou and Giovanni needed a log together.
Also: Blood and gore and swearing.
It was for no other reason than to get something for the twins (after all, he didn't even get to see them before...well) that Giovanni walked into the store filled with stuffed teddy bears and fairy wings and anything else a child could possibly dream of as their birthday present. Though, it posed a bit of a problem when it came down to Luki and Noki-after all, how did one get a satisfactory gift for a pair of homicidal bounty hunters? Giovanni paused uncertainly in front of a giant pink...something, looking at it critically. Maybe he should have gone to the weapons store instead.
Exactly three aisles from where Giovanni was standing, Badou Nails was inspecting a massive selection of kites. The success of date with Mitsuru, he reasoned, obviously hinged on the correct choice of kite. If he got an ugly one, she'd think he was a loser. If he got one that didn't fly well, she's think he was a loser. If he got that one with the Care Bears on it, she'd especially think he was a loser.
The sad part, he reflected absently, taking a drag, was that he really was a loser already. He picked up a neon green kite, pleased with the googly eyes on the front of it.
Anything plastic wouldn't do, nor something that was too big to deliver. Unfortunately, that ruled out most of the selection of the aisle that he was currently in. Maybe he could go for the less decorative and more practical, he mused, glancing down at his wristwatch as he started moving down the aisles. He wasn't planning to stay here for too long, since he had only managed to wrestle only a few hours from Renji, and after all, he had other things to take care of.
"Hydronautic activation flight sensors?" mumbly Badou irritably to himself, being the type to talk whether there was someone to talk to or not. "What the fucking shit is that supposed to mean...?" He turned the package over in his hands.
Clackclackclack of shoes, his temper wearing thin with each aisle seemingly piled with everything a kid could ask for, but which apparently fell short of what he was looking for, at all. "No, no, no, no," Giovanni muttered under his breath, passing by a collection of Fairy Princess Make-Up Kit (Now Complete with 400 different shades of pink!) without even pausing, turning into the next aisle, seemingly devoted to collection of completely useless flying objects. Which was no use at all Below. How hard was it, to choose a present for a couple of kids?
Making a frustrated noise, Badou pitched the neon green kite irritably back into the display. It wasn't as sturdy as he thought it was, and a small tidal wave of kites fell haphazardly from the display. Badou swore far too loudly for someone in a store with a much higher percentage of children than adults present.
That. He knew that voice.
His head snapped up and Giovanni glared down the aisle, the far end of which was occupied by a man with a shock of obnoxiously red hair and a good portion of the display now on the floor. Were they back already? Not that it really mattered; but pity that it didn't seem like Haine was around anywhere nearby. He'd have thought they were practically joined at the hip already.
"You," the blonde hissed out, hands already reaching into his jacket, closing around the familiar weight of the pistols. The fact that there were people here didn't really matter to him; they were all just fucking casualties. Right now, even as he aimed the guns down that narrow aisle at the redhead, his only concern was the ticking of the wristwatch. Might as well get this over and done with first.
Badou's head snapped up, his murky green eye widening when he saw who exactly was at the other end of the aisle, and what the fuck was that goddamned pasta fucker doing here? Rough, nicotine-stained hands immediately dug into the pockets of his coat, whipping out the dual Mac 10s and aiming. Lips curling in a nasty grin, Badou spat out his cigarette without breaking eye contact, crushing it under his boot. "Whats a girl like you doing in a place like this?"
Giovanni made a tsk-ing noise as the redhead spat the cigarette out, a momentary frown forming at the action. "Uncouth as always, I see, Eyepatch." The vaguely disapproving tone didn't last, though, a wide grin curling at the corners of his lips as he advanced closer, the muzzles of the pistols unwavering from the other's form. "I see America hasn't changed you much~"
"What can I fucking say?" Badou's lanky legs crossed in front of eachother as he moved sideways, his expression and rigid arms mirroring Giovanni's to a fault. "Not all of us are so fucking suceptible to being moulded into what other people want us to be, Bug Eyes."
This time, there was a definite edge in the way Giovanni smiled, a hint of something (darkgrowlingsomething) bleeding into the blonde's voice. He cocked his head a little to one side, the orange gaze sliding from the Mac 10s to the redhead's face, the enigmatic grin (halfsomething halfnothing vaguely teasing vaguely real) still playing about his lips.
"But what if you wanted to be, hmm?" He was taking his time, really, here. Being shot wasn't really his problem, though there would be questions later if his suit got ruined. Besides, if the idiot fired first, locked in a stand like this, he'd have a valid excuse, right?
"I don't~" sing-songed Badou. His own grin became a shade more vicious, as the chemicals in his brain started reacting to the lack of nicotine. His fingers twitched on the triggers of his guns, so slightly. "Hows your heinous bitch of a mama doing, eh?"
His eyes didn't miss the slight twitch of fingers and Giovanni shifted slightly, deliberately, the grip on his own guns tightening a little. A stray rubber ball rolled down the aisle from where someone knocked the basket over in their rush to get out, but the blonde paid no mind to it, his attention focused solely on the obnoxious redhead before him.
At Badou's words, however, the grin slipped a little, his expression flickering (annoyanceangerguiltsomething) before the usual impassive grinning mask slipped back in. "Missing her little Hainerle," he answered easily enough, the syllables rolling across his tongue, "where is he, anyway? It is rather unusual to see the sidekick by himself~"
It took effort, but Badou ignored the sidekick comment. "She'll have to keep missing him. You almost feel sorry for the batshit old hag. Almost," rasped the redhead, long legs crossing again as he sidled to the side again, towards the pile of kites. His smirk suddenly had a lot of teeth in it. "What a shame she's stuck with the reject. Hahahahha!"
For a moment, he saw red bleeding over his vision. For a moment, a surge of (angerkillkillkillkilltearripfuckingkill him-) sudden urge to tackle down the other with his bare hands, choke the life out of him, taste the blood on his tongue (-rip out that fucking eye that fucking goddamned mouth his fucking tongue-) rushed up his spine, hot and scalding, exploding behind his eyes.
Giovanni carefully took a slow breath, the voice snarlingragingstraining inside his head, and returned the same smirkgrin to the redhead, carefully stepping to one side, always keeping the other in range, in sight, in a circle. "That may be," his voice was even, low, with a hint of growl as an undertone, "but at least I'm not a goddamned traitor."
"No, you're just a fucking slave," purred the redhead, sweet enough to charm the birds from the trees.
Giovanni let out a snarl, whatever feeble control that he had over the creature slipping for a split second (-yesyesyesyes letmeout letmeout-) hands twitching again, fingers tightening shoes hardly making a noise as he shifted his weight (-fucking let me out already~!!)
"No," the blonde took another breath, slower this time, the single word falling between them (either at the redhead or to himself, he wasn't too sure) as he straightened slightly, the scars once again pale slivers of flesh hardly visible on his cheeks. "At least I'm not some one-eyed, defective trash like you."
A horrible laugh ripped from the smoker's throat, and suddenly, like a fucking acid trip, the air between them was full of kites. Badou had sweepingly kicked nearly the entirely pile up, and fallen to one knee [while his sanity had, per usual, temporarily fallen off the wagon]. The screaming of startled customers almost seemed to come before the first shots burst from the ends of his machine guns, bullets hurtling at Giovanni's gut.
The kites were, either deliberately or out of pure stupidity on Badou's part (perhaps owning to his Tourettes), a distraction, just enough for the bullets to find the mark before Giovanni swung his arms out, staggering a little at the impact (pain boring through cloth and skin and muscles). But the guns were pointed more-or-less steadily at the redhead, (anywhere is fine, just he(they) just wanted bloodfuckingscreamingpainpainpainpain) barely pausing to get his footing back before he was firing back in retaliation, the ever-present grin on his face.
Laughter tearing from wherever the systems breakdown in Badou's person was, the redhead hurtled to the side, frantic laughter coming even harder when a stack of stuffed animals adjacent literally got the stuffing blown out of them. Springing back up to his feet he shot another round, machine guns rattling loudly as they fired successive shots at the fucking teal catastrophe opposite him. "COME ON, PASTA FUCKER!" he howled, voice tinged with mad glee. "WE'RE IN A GODDAMNED FUCKING TOYSTORE, LETS FUCKING PLAY!"
His suit was going to be completely ruined, Renji would ask prying questions, the whole entire fucking business would be blown out of proportions and it was all because of that fucking sorry excuse for a human's fault. The air was thick with fluttering bits of what were once teddy bears and rabbits, Giovanni ducking behind a display of blandly-smiling porcelain dolls as the other fired. Shit, most of the bullets passed through flesh so there shouldn't be much to pick out later, but it fucking hurt, and it wasn't like he had an endless supply of suits on hand. Besides, he had liked this shirt.
"It certainly suits you, with the kind of mentality you have~" The blonde's voice was hardly heard above the sound of the machine guns and screaming, but the bullets from the lugers were, exploding loudly as they hit the glowing lava lamps on the stands near Badou.
Broken glass flying from his right was the last thing Badou had been expecting. They scraped the right side of his face, one sticking into the fabric of the eyepatch. That twisted laughter increased in volume as he plucked the shard from the black fabric, flinging it to the side. "WRONG ONE, SHITHEAD!" he crowed, executing a deranged half-jig and advancing on the man behind the dolls, guns firing.
A half-laughter was starting to bubble up from inside his chest no matter how hard he tried to hold it back. An odd, half-bark half-gurgle of laughter that really couldn't even be called as being one. Giovanni abandoned the stand and, stepping away from it, kicked at the wooden furniture, sending it pitching down, shattered dolls and all, towards the redhead's way.
The avalanche of tiny people [tinier than usual, at any rate] didn't slow the smoke-deprived man down. He executed a mad half leap, like a bird with broken wings, using the stand's falling momentum to vault after the blonde, bringing them to close range. He shoved the muzzles of his guns into Giovanni's armpits and fired.
The gurgle of laughter died into a pained grunt, mixed with a snarl (rush of painanger shooting straight up his spine) as pain exploded in both of his sides, trailing up and up and up and finally, the second explosion whitehot behind his eyes making him stagger slightly, his arms locking, keeping the redhead close (don'tlethimgetaway don'tdon'tdon't we will fucking kill him-)
"That hurt," Giovanni grinned with gaping, bloody mouth, their faces only inches apart, really, the blood from the wounds, from his mouth, staining his clothes dark. One of his arms were frozen, unmoving, the redhead's gun(hand) trapped between his body and his arm. Giovanni brought the other up, swaying a little from the injury not-quite-healed. Any kind of aiming was out of the question now. He grinned again, tilting the muzzle of the gun, pressing hard into the other's side and fired, the shockwave of the bullet almost pleasant jarring up his arm.
The worst part of it all, the very worst part, was that Badou did not stop laughing. The pained scream that the gunshot into his side inflicted was almost lost amid the frantic laughter, which jaggedly tapered off into gasping, deranged chuckles. The white t-shirt beneath his jacket began to turn an interesting shade of scarlet indeed. "FUCK," he burst, hysterical. "That- fucking- hurt- too, you fucking- son of a bitch- and I mean that shit-" his own mad laughter cut him off, and he had to shake his head to stop- "-I mean that shit literally." He ripped one of his guns free of Giovanni's hold, and cracked him across the face with it.
His head snapped back at the impact, pain spreading on the side of his face (and a moment where his heartbeat stopped as the glasses slipped a little it was fine it was fine) before he straightened back, lifting the now-free hand up and bringing the handle of the pistol down hard on the crook of the redhead's elbow, the bloody grin twisting on his face at the neverending deranged cackle of laughter from Badou. "Take that back-" His other hand dropped the gun (it was useless now, anyway, they were too close) and dug in viciously into the wound on Badou's side. "Take that back-"
"Fuck you fuck you fuck you-" gasped the redhead euphorically, one of his mac 10s clattering to the floor as blinding pain shot up his arm from his elbow, and an upgraded version of said pain from his side following soon after. With a screaming, banshee-esque laugh, his hand leaving the barrel of the gun jammed against the Italian to grab hold of Giovanni's throat and squeeze, nails digging into the skin until they drew blood.
Giovanni choked a little, the blood gurgling as it was forced back down his throat. A loud snarl left his mouth as he dug his own nails into the redhead's bleeding wound, the other hand (dropping the gun clackclackclack on the floor) coming up to wrap around Badou's wrist and squeeze, twisting the joint. The bones felt clearly through the skin, another strangled half-laughter half-words (killyoukillkillkillkill-) forcing itself out of his mouth.
Badou howled, his side on fire and his feet tangling up in Giovanni's and bringing them crashing to the floor, atop kites and tiny broken people [and they probably qualified as big broken people]. Between Giovanni trying to break his wrist and the sudden drop, the redhead relocated his hand to Giovanni's face- in the form of a fist. He smashed his knuckles into the other man's mouth, his jaw, his stupid fucking orange sunglasses, and laughed so hard it hurt.
His head jarred on the tiles quite hard but that didn't even compare to the flaring of pain across his face as Badou started laying punches like his life depended on it (and really, it probably was, now that he thought about it). Giovanni let out a coughing, strangled growl that were in par with the other's mad laughter and twisted, his one hand still buried in the other's side (tearingclawingscratchingfuckyoufuckyoufuckyou-).
The lenses of his sunglasses cracked after the second punch, he could feel the blood trickling from the cuts above his eyebrow, pooling into his eyes it hurt. The blonde snarled again, pushing up with his other hand, grabbing the first thing that came to his mind amid the blurry vision (which just happened to be his goddamned filthy hair) and tuggedpulled hard, twisting the red hair around his grip and trying to roll them over, teeth bared in pain.
This hair pulling was a fair throw different from the sort angry sorority girls do when someone has slept with someone else's boyfriend [the skank]. Even as Badou's neck cracked and protested from the fucking hair-pull whiplash, he continued smashing his knuckles into the smaller man's face, a pleasant giggle erupting out of his throat when he heard the sharp snap of a nose breaking. He paused only long enough to painfully lift the arm on the side of his wounded body to wrench the clawing fingers away from the now enthusiastically bleeding wound [and through the haze of smoke-deprived madness and pain, he wounded, claws? I thought they were fucking dogs].
Giovanni made a strangled noise (not quite a snarl, not quite a grunt, but still the pain etched clearly in the noise) as his nose crunched under Badou's fist. He (almost spastically) tightened his hand even more around the grip he had on the red hair, pullingtugging sharply, the wound protesting with each harsh jerk of his arm. "Fucking- bastard-" He gasped out in between snarls, the hand that was wrenched away from Badou's side immediately going for the redhead's face, laying a punch slippery with blood, smashing into the cheekbone under the redhead's good eye.
His own dark blood smeared across his cheek, Badou hissed in pain and accidentally bit his tongue. With an angry bark of a laugh, he spat a large gob of blood down onto the struggling blonde. He was starting to shake a little from blood loss and exertion, but was also seemingly unaware of this. "Fucking gay ass- teal- wearing- cocksucker-" he panted, driving his knee up hard between Giovanni's legs, because oh, Badou Nails was not one to shy away from playing dirty. "He fucking hates you!"
He couldn't really feel his nose anymore, nor the rest of his face; it was all numb, the pain bleedingfeeding into the blinding rageanger(fuckingkillhimfuck) and Giovanni wrapped his fingers around the redhead's throat, the slippery fingers scrabbling for hold before clutching fast, thumb digging into the side of Badou's throat, nails biting into the skin mercilessly. A pained gasp left his mouth as the (fucking assholebastardfuckershitheadfuckfuckfuck) knee made contact, the grip on Badou's throat loosening slightly as he momentarily let go, the pain exploding behind his eyelids.
Breath not coming [fuck oxygen, anyway, fuck, he needed a smoke, he needed a fucking smoke and he'd kill every last motherfucker in this city for one if he had to], Badou panted harshly, also momentarily still, laughter low and aimless. He gripped the blonde's head by the hair, returning that root-ripping favour, and slammed Giovanni's head back into the tiles. "I fucking hate you," he laughed manically, "I fucking- hate you- so fucking much, ahahahahahah!"
Bright white lights burst behind Giovanni's eyes with every jolt and slam against the tiles, his hands tuggingpullingclawing at everythinganything he could reach, nails scratching down the redhead's throat, pushing against the other's shoulder, pained(but so so so very angry) snarls leaving his mouth as the blonde quite literally fought back tooth and nail.
"I hate you too," the blonde gurgled, the blood pooling in the back of his throat (slicksleeksaltybitter), half blind with blood in his eyes (god, it hurt like motherfucking-!) but the wide feral grin still firmly in place, blood-coated teeth sharp. He dug his nails hardersharper into the other's neck, scratching deep against the collarbone, digging in and in and in (he wanted him to hurt so badly the pain bursting in his own headfacebody didn't matter at all) "I fucking hate you- fucking- Just die already-"
"I never did- ahhhh! FUCKING DILDO, I'LL FUCKING, HAHAHA, I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU- never did anything to your fucking stupid-" Badou smashed his sharp knees down onto Giovanni's legs, kept smashing his head back, anything, everything he could reach and shit, he maybe needed a fucking bandaid or twelve hundred because he was feeling a little lightheaded now and fuck that was funny too. He laughed, his side protesting every single breath. "-fucking- fuck! HAHAHAHAA!"
"Get the fuck off me-" Giovanni gasped(gurgled) out, half-rambling, half-delirious with the pain and blood loss (haha, you're really hurt, aren't you, and from this stupid mongrel too-you're so weak, so weak hahaha-) but his instincts and the adrenalin rushing inside kept him moving, kept his grip tight around the other's throat the hand tangled in the other's hair strugglingpulling moving away from the goddamned womanhair (he'll fucking cut the damn thing off) to push and claw at the redhead's face. He managed to free a leg from the vicious treatment it had received (fucking- asshole- anorexic bastard-) and jabbed a knee into the other's lower stomach.
"Yes you did," he all but snarled up at Badou, the blood-covered face twisted in anger. "Yes you fucking did, you fucking bastard, you-" his hand left the other's face(clawing was hard to do when blood made everything slippery) and clamped down around the hand in his hair, but not having enough strength now to actually break it (though it might leave a horrendous bruise come tomorrow) "I fucking hate you hate you hate you I'll God I'll fucking kill you-!"
"I fucking what!" scream/laughed the redhead, the manic glee faded, replaced with something like bewildered desperation. He gasped frantically as the wind was momentarily knocked out of him, "I- fucking- what, you piece of- fucking shit?" His face burned, his burned, his lungs fucking burned, and he didn't know whose blood was whose anymore, only that there sure was a fuckload of it, clean up on aisle seven in-fucking-deed, sir.
The pain was all but gone now, all of it rushing into the burning anger and the sheer spike in adrenalin that made his heartbeats almost frantic in his ears (he remembered to breathe and sucked in a quick gasp of air, a leg trapped between their bodies his hands tight around the other's neck the other's wrist twistingpullingpushingget the fuck away from me get off me get off off off off off-he probably wasn't even aware of what he was saying, at this point.
"You- and Haine-" The blonde growled out, managed to strangle the words out from his (bloodgurglingpooling) throat, and fuckfuckfuck everything fucking hurt-"You're always fucking there alwaysalwaysalways-!" He twisted again, hooked his other leg around one of Badou's, and with a burst of strength that was mostly driven out of pure desperation than anything else, managed to roll them around, his knee pressing down hard against Badou's stomach, putting his weight over the redhead's throat.
"Why does he like you that much?" He was practically gurgling out blood with every word, falling down onto Badou's face, his hair, his clothes. "What does he see in a fucking trash like you-?!"
Badou choked, harsh laughter that had nothing to do with joy or humour cutting out from between his lips. With Giovanni's fingers crushing his windpipe, there was little else he could do. He blinked rapidly as the smaller man's blood dropped into his good eye, burning. His answer was a jagged series of coughs and gasping cackles, and his eyebrows arched in mad amusement at the situation, because he could hardly answer the fuckin' question like this, could he?
Giovanni was practically shaking, his grip around Badou's throat flexing in a way that could almost have been called nervous but really, wasn't what he wanted to do kill the damn bastard? Harsh, pained gasps left his mouth as the blonde tried to catch his breath, momentarily still where he was crouched over the redhead, every single parts of his body screaming out in pain. "-Why?" The fingers tightened slightly around the other's neck before (almost involuntarily) loosening again, gritting his teeth so tightly it hurt. "-Why?"
Looking up into that demanding, blood-covered face, the cracked orange sunglasses, Badou's tense body shook harder with laughter. As the pressure on his trachea loosned, he gulped air frantically, feeling the cuts on the right side of his face protest at the facial movement. "I don't- fucking know-" he gasped, his manic grin desperate, eyebrows knitting together in something akin to an apology, to an entreaty. "I don't fucking know, man."
Another minute or so passed, the blonde's mouth set in a hardpained half-grimace half-snarl, his fingersgriphands flexing around Badou's throat ever-so-slightly. With all the blood covering his face (running down into his eyes trickling down his chin) it was next to impossible to really tell Giovanni's expression for what it was (hateangerfearannoyancelost) before the blonde sort of jerked back, letting out a small grunt of pain as he slid off the redhead and onto the toy-covered floor beside him. "-I don't get it." He gasped out, trying to catch his breath, the gunshot wounds still twinging in pain.
Chest heaving, Badou let out a half-deranged bark of a laugh, light headed and melancholy. "Me fucking- either." His scarred hand jerked down to retrieve his cigarettes, producing a pack completely soaked in blood. With a slow thought process, he pushed his jacket aside, inserted his hand shakily up under his shirt, and moaned. "Fuck, you fucking shot me," he panted, hand coming back as soaked with blood as the carton of smokes. He huffed a frantic laugh. "You fucking shot me because your f-fucking brother likes me better, you fucking dick."
Giovanni fingered his nose gingerly, a hand reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket to pull out a handkerchief, mostly (surprisingly) undamaged from all the blood from the fight. "You shot me first," he shot back, an odd, strangled sort of laughter(growl?) twisting out from his throat. God, it hurt, he couldn't see with all the blood- His hands shook slightly as he raised a hand, reaching under the brokencracked lenses to roughly wipe away some of the blood. The other hand tightened a little uncertainly around the kerchief, before he (his face still turned away from the redhead) sort of thrust the crumpled bit of cloth towards Badou.
"You fucking pulled your-" a quiet, pained gasp, "-gun first, shithead." The corners of Badou's mouth twitched when he registered the handkerchief, but he declined to make an asshole comment [chalking it up to the blood loss]. He took it with twitching fingers, wiping the blood clumsily from his face and hands- his knuckles were raw and ripped from where he smashed them into Giovanni's sunglasses, his teeth. "Fuck," he breathed, tone almost bemused. "Jeeeesus. You're a goddamned fucking psycho." He blinked sluggishly at the ruined handkerchief, wondering what the fuck he was supposed to do with it now. He did know one thing, though. "We can't do this shit."
The blonde retracted his hand back as soon as Badou took the handkerchief, the movement jerky and unsure (but that could also have been the blood loss kicking in, a dull throbbing pain in the back of his head). "You're a goddamned fucking shithead," he sucked in a shortsharp breath of air, reaching up to loosen his tie slightly, before dropping his hands on his lap. All the shallower wounds were closing up, the hissing sound barely heard in the aftermath of them both trying to get some oxygen into their lungs. Giovanni glanced at the redhead out of the corner of his eye, showing blood-stained teeth in a sort of grin. "I know."
"If you really want," Badou managed, slowly, his hand bunching his jacket to his side, trying to stem the bleeding, "him to stop hating you, stop fucking with us. F-for a while, he wasn't completely against trying-" he hacked a hard cough, spitting a mix of blood and brownish-grey phlegm onto the floor, right in front of Baby's First Dolly. "I think I'm gonna pass out soon," rasped the redhead, almost pleasantly. "Don't have sex with my unconcious body or anything, okay?"
There was a short silence while Giovanni debated between ignoring the redhead and actually listening to what the goddamned drug addict said for once. His hands twitched nervously in his lap again, fingers curling in against the palms of his hands, as he breathed in slowly, twinges of pain making him grimace slightly. "I don't go for fucked up anorexic redheads," the blonde finally muttered out, choosing to not to respond to the first part of what Badou had said, a twitch of something in the corner of his lips before it vanished again.
"Cool," sighed Badou, letting his eye drift close. He felt very much like he wanted to go to sleep, now. A nice nap. Dreams with lots of hot, naked girls, and no fucking asshole little brothers with ugly shades and uglier suits. Yeah, that'd be nice. But- "Gotta smoke?" he groaned, the mania threatening to raise its head again, even in his splayed out, bleeding state. "Just one fuckin' cigarette.."
"You're retarded," the blonde barked out, feeling very much like he would pass out too, the ringing in his head intensifying. He swayed a little from where he was sitting, half-looking down at the redhead sprawled out on the floor beside him. "I don't smoke," Giovanni started, the tone a little bit incredulous, a little bit amused a little bit annoyed. He reached over Badou with slight difficulty, a hand closing around the bloodied pack of cigarettes, spilling them on the tiles as he shook out the bloodied, ruined cancer sticks. "Fuck," the blonde growled and finally gave up, picking one relatively-undamaged and roughly pressing it between Badou's lips. "Asshole."
Badou's murky green eye, liberally splattered with blood, fixated on Giovanni's cracked shades so intensely it was almost easy to forget he was likely to black out in the near future. He produced a lighter from wherever it was that he stashed them, and with torn, exhausted hands, lit up. His eye half closed, the intake of breath painful, but the smoke so fucking good. Slowly, tentatively, like a mother bird letting her chicks out of the nest for the first time, he let the first delicious puff fly free.
"Ah," he sighed, the smoke curling upwards. "Back to the land of the fuckin' living." Feeling a sharp twinge in his side, and noticing his vision was starting to go a little purple around the edges, he ammended, "For now, anyway."
Giovanni grimaced a little and leant back, waving a hand in front of his face to disperse of the cigarette smoke now curling up around them. It was also, even though he didn't really want to admit it, because of the intensity of the single green eye fixed on his face. "I can't believe you," the blonde muttered, carefully keeping his gaze away from Badou as he wiped the pooling trickle of blood from his eyes again, wiping it on his suit jacket afterwards; it was ruined enough, anyway, no point in trying anymore. A short pause. "-Do you need any," another pause, while Giovanni visibly stiffened a little, forcing the word out from his lips as if it were an insult instead. "-help."
"Would you actually give me any?" rasped the redhead amusedly, a harsh- but sane- bark of a laugh forcing its way past his teeth, which were beginning to chatter. "Or is that a general question, a fucking dig at my psychological st-" All of a sudden, whatever remaining colour there had been on his face drained, and his shit-eating-grin faltered. His voice was low, a small breath through gritted teeth, when he spoke again. "Fuck."
Badou's voice sounded different, the blonde could tell; the manic tinge (ever-present cackling) was all but gone from his voice. Giovanni half-turned from where he was sitting, twisting slightly to look down at the redhead on the floor. There was so much blood, Giovanni couldn't even tell just how much of it was the redhead's. "Yes, fuck." The blonde shook his head slightly and frowned, slowly, stiffly, getting to his knees, staring down at Badou again. "I could just leave you here to die, you know." His voice was quiet, almost barely heard, but there was no hint of any joking in it.
The taller man smoked, feeling tired, feeling cold, and feeling much more aged than his mere nineteen years. "You could," Badou rasped, a crooked smirk on his thin lips. "It's what I would do. Then again, I'm not some regenerative starfish-" he shuddered, hard, limbs half curling in on his side, "f-freak sh-show, eh?"
A momentary frown crossed the blonde's face (a little uncertain, a little tense, flickeringflitting past his face so fast it was hard to tell) before he got up without a word, walking away from the redhead silently, his footsteps clicking a little on the tiled floor.
In a while, though, the steps returned, and Giovanni was (rather irritably, since he had no fucking idea why he was doing this, even) pulling Badou up, reaching down to the redhead's wounded side and pressing a bunch of the cotton doll dresses he'd pulled off some rack somewhere. "Shut up," he growled out, his grip tight on Badou's wrist as he slung it across his own shoulder, staggering a little under the weight, he himself limping slightly. "Don't even say a word-"
And Badou actually did not. However, this was probably due to the fact that he was passed out cold.
He drooled on Giovanni's shoulder the whole way home.
by
optimus_fridge
What: Bitchfight what.
Where: The City. A random toy store.
When: After Badou and Haine comes back from America. The day after, was it?
Why: Because Badou and Giovanni needed a log together.
Also: Blood and gore and swearing.
It was for no other reason than to get something for the twins (after all, he didn't even get to see them before...well) that Giovanni walked into the store filled with stuffed teddy bears and fairy wings and anything else a child could possibly dream of as their birthday present. Though, it posed a bit of a problem when it came down to Luki and Noki-after all, how did one get a satisfactory gift for a pair of homicidal bounty hunters? Giovanni paused uncertainly in front of a giant pink...something, looking at it critically. Maybe he should have gone to the weapons store instead.
Exactly three aisles from where Giovanni was standing, Badou Nails was inspecting a massive selection of kites. The success of date with Mitsuru, he reasoned, obviously hinged on the correct choice of kite. If he got an ugly one, she'd think he was a loser. If he got one that didn't fly well, she's think he was a loser. If he got that one with the Care Bears on it, she'd especially think he was a loser.
The sad part, he reflected absently, taking a drag, was that he really was a loser already. He picked up a neon green kite, pleased with the googly eyes on the front of it.
Anything plastic wouldn't do, nor something that was too big to deliver. Unfortunately, that ruled out most of the selection of the aisle that he was currently in. Maybe he could go for the less decorative and more practical, he mused, glancing down at his wristwatch as he started moving down the aisles. He wasn't planning to stay here for too long, since he had only managed to wrestle only a few hours from Renji, and after all, he had other things to take care of.
"Hydronautic activation flight sensors?" mumbly Badou irritably to himself, being the type to talk whether there was someone to talk to or not. "What the fucking shit is that supposed to mean...?" He turned the package over in his hands.
Clackclackclack of shoes, his temper wearing thin with each aisle seemingly piled with everything a kid could ask for, but which apparently fell short of what he was looking for, at all. "No, no, no, no," Giovanni muttered under his breath, passing by a collection of Fairy Princess Make-Up Kit (Now Complete with 400 different shades of pink!) without even pausing, turning into the next aisle, seemingly devoted to collection of completely useless flying objects. Which was no use at all Below. How hard was it, to choose a present for a couple of kids?
Making a frustrated noise, Badou pitched the neon green kite irritably back into the display. It wasn't as sturdy as he thought it was, and a small tidal wave of kites fell haphazardly from the display. Badou swore far too loudly for someone in a store with a much higher percentage of children than adults present.
That. He knew that voice.
His head snapped up and Giovanni glared down the aisle, the far end of which was occupied by a man with a shock of obnoxiously red hair and a good portion of the display now on the floor. Were they back already? Not that it really mattered; but pity that it didn't seem like Haine was around anywhere nearby. He'd have thought they were practically joined at the hip already.
"You," the blonde hissed out, hands already reaching into his jacket, closing around the familiar weight of the pistols. The fact that there were people here didn't really matter to him; they were all just fucking casualties. Right now, even as he aimed the guns down that narrow aisle at the redhead, his only concern was the ticking of the wristwatch. Might as well get this over and done with first.
Badou's head snapped up, his murky green eye widening when he saw who exactly was at the other end of the aisle, and what the fuck was that goddamned pasta fucker doing here? Rough, nicotine-stained hands immediately dug into the pockets of his coat, whipping out the dual Mac 10s and aiming. Lips curling in a nasty grin, Badou spat out his cigarette without breaking eye contact, crushing it under his boot. "Whats a girl like you doing in a place like this?"
Giovanni made a tsk-ing noise as the redhead spat the cigarette out, a momentary frown forming at the action. "Uncouth as always, I see, Eyepatch." The vaguely disapproving tone didn't last, though, a wide grin curling at the corners of his lips as he advanced closer, the muzzles of the pistols unwavering from the other's form. "I see America hasn't changed you much~"
"What can I fucking say?" Badou's lanky legs crossed in front of eachother as he moved sideways, his expression and rigid arms mirroring Giovanni's to a fault. "Not all of us are so fucking suceptible to being moulded into what other people want us to be, Bug Eyes."
This time, there was a definite edge in the way Giovanni smiled, a hint of something (darkgrowlingsomething) bleeding into the blonde's voice. He cocked his head a little to one side, the orange gaze sliding from the Mac 10s to the redhead's face, the enigmatic grin (halfsomething halfnothing vaguely teasing vaguely real) still playing about his lips.
"But what if you wanted to be, hmm?" He was taking his time, really, here. Being shot wasn't really his problem, though there would be questions later if his suit got ruined. Besides, if the idiot fired first, locked in a stand like this, he'd have a valid excuse, right?
"I don't~" sing-songed Badou. His own grin became a shade more vicious, as the chemicals in his brain started reacting to the lack of nicotine. His fingers twitched on the triggers of his guns, so slightly. "Hows your heinous bitch of a mama doing, eh?"
His eyes didn't miss the slight twitch of fingers and Giovanni shifted slightly, deliberately, the grip on his own guns tightening a little. A stray rubber ball rolled down the aisle from where someone knocked the basket over in their rush to get out, but the blonde paid no mind to it, his attention focused solely on the obnoxious redhead before him.
At Badou's words, however, the grin slipped a little, his expression flickering (annoyanceangerguiltsomething) before the usual impassive grinning mask slipped back in. "Missing her little Hainerle," he answered easily enough, the syllables rolling across his tongue, "where is he, anyway? It is rather unusual to see the sidekick by himself~"
It took effort, but Badou ignored the sidekick comment. "She'll have to keep missing him. You almost feel sorry for the batshit old hag. Almost," rasped the redhead, long legs crossing again as he sidled to the side again, towards the pile of kites. His smirk suddenly had a lot of teeth in it. "What a shame she's stuck with the reject. Hahahahha!"
For a moment, he saw red bleeding over his vision. For a moment, a surge of (angerkillkillkillkilltearripfuckingkill him-) sudden urge to tackle down the other with his bare hands, choke the life out of him, taste the blood on his tongue (-rip out that fucking eye that fucking goddamned mouth his fucking tongue-) rushed up his spine, hot and scalding, exploding behind his eyes.
Giovanni carefully took a slow breath, the voice snarlingragingstraining inside his head, and returned the same smirkgrin to the redhead, carefully stepping to one side, always keeping the other in range, in sight, in a circle. "That may be," his voice was even, low, with a hint of growl as an undertone, "but at least I'm not a goddamned traitor."
"No, you're just a fucking slave," purred the redhead, sweet enough to charm the birds from the trees.
Giovanni let out a snarl, whatever feeble control that he had over the creature slipping for a split second (-yesyesyesyes letmeout letmeout-) hands twitching again, fingers tightening shoes hardly making a noise as he shifted his weight (-fucking let me out already~!!)
"No," the blonde took another breath, slower this time, the single word falling between them (either at the redhead or to himself, he wasn't too sure) as he straightened slightly, the scars once again pale slivers of flesh hardly visible on his cheeks. "At least I'm not some one-eyed, defective trash like you."
A horrible laugh ripped from the smoker's throat, and suddenly, like a fucking acid trip, the air between them was full of kites. Badou had sweepingly kicked nearly the entirely pile up, and fallen to one knee [while his sanity had, per usual, temporarily fallen off the wagon]. The screaming of startled customers almost seemed to come before the first shots burst from the ends of his machine guns, bullets hurtling at Giovanni's gut.
The kites were, either deliberately or out of pure stupidity on Badou's part (perhaps owning to his Tourettes), a distraction, just enough for the bullets to find the mark before Giovanni swung his arms out, staggering a little at the impact (pain boring through cloth and skin and muscles). But the guns were pointed more-or-less steadily at the redhead, (anywhere is fine, just he(they) just wanted bloodfuckingscreamingpainpainpainpain) barely pausing to get his footing back before he was firing back in retaliation, the ever-present grin on his face.
Laughter tearing from wherever the systems breakdown in Badou's person was, the redhead hurtled to the side, frantic laughter coming even harder when a stack of stuffed animals adjacent literally got the stuffing blown out of them. Springing back up to his feet he shot another round, machine guns rattling loudly as they fired successive shots at the fucking teal catastrophe opposite him. "COME ON, PASTA FUCKER!" he howled, voice tinged with mad glee. "WE'RE IN A GODDAMNED FUCKING TOYSTORE, LETS FUCKING PLAY!"
His suit was going to be completely ruined, Renji would ask prying questions, the whole entire fucking business would be blown out of proportions and it was all because of that fucking sorry excuse for a human's fault. The air was thick with fluttering bits of what were once teddy bears and rabbits, Giovanni ducking behind a display of blandly-smiling porcelain dolls as the other fired. Shit, most of the bullets passed through flesh so there shouldn't be much to pick out later, but it fucking hurt, and it wasn't like he had an endless supply of suits on hand. Besides, he had liked this shirt.
"It certainly suits you, with the kind of mentality you have~" The blonde's voice was hardly heard above the sound of the machine guns and screaming, but the bullets from the lugers were, exploding loudly as they hit the glowing lava lamps on the stands near Badou.
Broken glass flying from his right was the last thing Badou had been expecting. They scraped the right side of his face, one sticking into the fabric of the eyepatch. That twisted laughter increased in volume as he plucked the shard from the black fabric, flinging it to the side. "WRONG ONE, SHITHEAD!" he crowed, executing a deranged half-jig and advancing on the man behind the dolls, guns firing.
A half-laughter was starting to bubble up from inside his chest no matter how hard he tried to hold it back. An odd, half-bark half-gurgle of laughter that really couldn't even be called as being one. Giovanni abandoned the stand and, stepping away from it, kicked at the wooden furniture, sending it pitching down, shattered dolls and all, towards the redhead's way.
The avalanche of tiny people [tinier than usual, at any rate] didn't slow the smoke-deprived man down. He executed a mad half leap, like a bird with broken wings, using the stand's falling momentum to vault after the blonde, bringing them to close range. He shoved the muzzles of his guns into Giovanni's armpits and fired.
The gurgle of laughter died into a pained grunt, mixed with a snarl (rush of painanger shooting straight up his spine) as pain exploded in both of his sides, trailing up and up and up and finally, the second explosion whitehot behind his eyes making him stagger slightly, his arms locking, keeping the redhead close (don'tlethimgetaway don'tdon'tdon't we will fucking kill him-)
"That hurt," Giovanni grinned with gaping, bloody mouth, their faces only inches apart, really, the blood from the wounds, from his mouth, staining his clothes dark. One of his arms were frozen, unmoving, the redhead's gun(hand) trapped between his body and his arm. Giovanni brought the other up, swaying a little from the injury not-quite-healed. Any kind of aiming was out of the question now. He grinned again, tilting the muzzle of the gun, pressing hard into the other's side and fired, the shockwave of the bullet almost pleasant jarring up his arm.
The worst part of it all, the very worst part, was that Badou did not stop laughing. The pained scream that the gunshot into his side inflicted was almost lost amid the frantic laughter, which jaggedly tapered off into gasping, deranged chuckles. The white t-shirt beneath his jacket began to turn an interesting shade of scarlet indeed. "FUCK," he burst, hysterical. "That- fucking- hurt- too, you fucking- son of a bitch- and I mean that shit-" his own mad laughter cut him off, and he had to shake his head to stop- "-I mean that shit literally." He ripped one of his guns free of Giovanni's hold, and cracked him across the face with it.
His head snapped back at the impact, pain spreading on the side of his face (and a moment where his heartbeat stopped as the glasses slipped a little it was fine it was fine) before he straightened back, lifting the now-free hand up and bringing the handle of the pistol down hard on the crook of the redhead's elbow, the bloody grin twisting on his face at the neverending deranged cackle of laughter from Badou. "Take that back-" His other hand dropped the gun (it was useless now, anyway, they were too close) and dug in viciously into the wound on Badou's side. "Take that back-"
"Fuck you fuck you fuck you-" gasped the redhead euphorically, one of his mac 10s clattering to the floor as blinding pain shot up his arm from his elbow, and an upgraded version of said pain from his side following soon after. With a screaming, banshee-esque laugh, his hand leaving the barrel of the gun jammed against the Italian to grab hold of Giovanni's throat and squeeze, nails digging into the skin until they drew blood.
Giovanni choked a little, the blood gurgling as it was forced back down his throat. A loud snarl left his mouth as he dug his own nails into the redhead's bleeding wound, the other hand (dropping the gun clackclackclack on the floor) coming up to wrap around Badou's wrist and squeeze, twisting the joint. The bones felt clearly through the skin, another strangled half-laughter half-words (killyoukillkillkillkill-) forcing itself out of his mouth.
Badou howled, his side on fire and his feet tangling up in Giovanni's and bringing them crashing to the floor, atop kites and tiny broken people [and they probably qualified as big broken people]. Between Giovanni trying to break his wrist and the sudden drop, the redhead relocated his hand to Giovanni's face- in the form of a fist. He smashed his knuckles into the other man's mouth, his jaw, his stupid fucking orange sunglasses, and laughed so hard it hurt.
His head jarred on the tiles quite hard but that didn't even compare to the flaring of pain across his face as Badou started laying punches like his life depended on it (and really, it probably was, now that he thought about it). Giovanni let out a coughing, strangled growl that were in par with the other's mad laughter and twisted, his one hand still buried in the other's side (tearingclawingscratchingfuckyoufuckyoufuckyou-).
The lenses of his sunglasses cracked after the second punch, he could feel the blood trickling from the cuts above his eyebrow, pooling into his eyes it hurt. The blonde snarled again, pushing up with his other hand, grabbing the first thing that came to his mind amid the blurry vision (which just happened to be his goddamned filthy hair) and tuggedpulled hard, twisting the red hair around his grip and trying to roll them over, teeth bared in pain.
This hair pulling was a fair throw different from the sort angry sorority girls do when someone has slept with someone else's boyfriend [the skank]. Even as Badou's neck cracked and protested from the fucking hair-pull whiplash, he continued smashing his knuckles into the smaller man's face, a pleasant giggle erupting out of his throat when he heard the sharp snap of a nose breaking. He paused only long enough to painfully lift the arm on the side of his wounded body to wrench the clawing fingers away from the now enthusiastically bleeding wound [and through the haze of smoke-deprived madness and pain, he wounded, claws? I thought they were fucking dogs].
Giovanni made a strangled noise (not quite a snarl, not quite a grunt, but still the pain etched clearly in the noise) as his nose crunched under Badou's fist. He (almost spastically) tightened his hand even more around the grip he had on the red hair, pullingtugging sharply, the wound protesting with each harsh jerk of his arm. "Fucking- bastard-" He gasped out in between snarls, the hand that was wrenched away from Badou's side immediately going for the redhead's face, laying a punch slippery with blood, smashing into the cheekbone under the redhead's good eye.
His own dark blood smeared across his cheek, Badou hissed in pain and accidentally bit his tongue. With an angry bark of a laugh, he spat a large gob of blood down onto the struggling blonde. He was starting to shake a little from blood loss and exertion, but was also seemingly unaware of this. "Fucking gay ass- teal- wearing- cocksucker-" he panted, driving his knee up hard between Giovanni's legs, because oh, Badou Nails was not one to shy away from playing dirty. "He fucking hates you!"
He couldn't really feel his nose anymore, nor the rest of his face; it was all numb, the pain bleedingfeeding into the blinding rageanger(fuckingkillhimfuck) and Giovanni wrapped his fingers around the redhead's throat, the slippery fingers scrabbling for hold before clutching fast, thumb digging into the side of Badou's throat, nails biting into the skin mercilessly. A pained gasp left his mouth as the (fucking assholebastardfuckershitheadfuckfuckfuck) knee made contact, the grip on Badou's throat loosening slightly as he momentarily let go, the pain exploding behind his eyelids.
Breath not coming [fuck oxygen, anyway, fuck, he needed a smoke, he needed a fucking smoke and he'd kill every last motherfucker in this city for one if he had to], Badou panted harshly, also momentarily still, laughter low and aimless. He gripped the blonde's head by the hair, returning that root-ripping favour, and slammed Giovanni's head back into the tiles. "I fucking hate you," he laughed manically, "I fucking- hate you- so fucking much, ahahahahahah!"
Bright white lights burst behind Giovanni's eyes with every jolt and slam against the tiles, his hands tuggingpullingclawing at everythinganything he could reach, nails scratching down the redhead's throat, pushing against the other's shoulder, pained(but so so so very angry) snarls leaving his mouth as the blonde quite literally fought back tooth and nail.
"I hate you too," the blonde gurgled, the blood pooling in the back of his throat (slicksleeksaltybitter), half blind with blood in his eyes (god, it hurt like motherfucking-!) but the wide feral grin still firmly in place, blood-coated teeth sharp. He dug his nails hardersharper into the other's neck, scratching deep against the collarbone, digging in and in and in (he wanted him to hurt so badly the pain bursting in his own headfacebody didn't matter at all) "I fucking hate you- fucking- Just die already-"
"I never did- ahhhh! FUCKING DILDO, I'LL FUCKING, HAHAHA, I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU- never did anything to your fucking stupid-" Badou smashed his sharp knees down onto Giovanni's legs, kept smashing his head back, anything, everything he could reach and shit, he maybe needed a fucking bandaid or twelve hundred because he was feeling a little lightheaded now and fuck that was funny too. He laughed, his side protesting every single breath. "-fucking- fuck! HAHAHAHAA!"
"Get the fuck off me-" Giovanni gasped(gurgled) out, half-rambling, half-delirious with the pain and blood loss (haha, you're really hurt, aren't you, and from this stupid mongrel too-you're so weak, so weak hahaha-) but his instincts and the adrenalin rushing inside kept him moving, kept his grip tight around the other's throat the hand tangled in the other's hair strugglingpulling moving away from the goddamned womanhair (he'll fucking cut the damn thing off) to push and claw at the redhead's face. He managed to free a leg from the vicious treatment it had received (fucking- asshole- anorexic bastard-) and jabbed a knee into the other's lower stomach.
"Yes you did," he all but snarled up at Badou, the blood-covered face twisted in anger. "Yes you fucking did, you fucking bastard, you-" his hand left the other's face(clawing was hard to do when blood made everything slippery) and clamped down around the hand in his hair, but not having enough strength now to actually break it (though it might leave a horrendous bruise come tomorrow) "I fucking hate you hate you hate you I'll God I'll fucking kill you-!"
"I fucking what!" scream/laughed the redhead, the manic glee faded, replaced with something like bewildered desperation. He gasped frantically as the wind was momentarily knocked out of him, "I- fucking- what, you piece of- fucking shit?" His face burned, his burned, his lungs fucking burned, and he didn't know whose blood was whose anymore, only that there sure was a fuckload of it, clean up on aisle seven in-fucking-deed, sir.
The pain was all but gone now, all of it rushing into the burning anger and the sheer spike in adrenalin that made his heartbeats almost frantic in his ears (he remembered to breathe and sucked in a quick gasp of air, a leg trapped between their bodies his hands tight around the other's neck the other's wrist twistingpullingpushingget the fuck away from me get off me get off off off off off-he probably wasn't even aware of what he was saying, at this point.
"You- and Haine-" The blonde growled out, managed to strangle the words out from his (bloodgurglingpooling) throat, and fuckfuckfuck everything fucking hurt-"You're always fucking there alwaysalwaysalways-!" He twisted again, hooked his other leg around one of Badou's, and with a burst of strength that was mostly driven out of pure desperation than anything else, managed to roll them around, his knee pressing down hard against Badou's stomach, putting his weight over the redhead's throat.
"Why does he like you that much?" He was practically gurgling out blood with every word, falling down onto Badou's face, his hair, his clothes. "What does he see in a fucking trash like you-?!"
Badou choked, harsh laughter that had nothing to do with joy or humour cutting out from between his lips. With Giovanni's fingers crushing his windpipe, there was little else he could do. He blinked rapidly as the smaller man's blood dropped into his good eye, burning. His answer was a jagged series of coughs and gasping cackles, and his eyebrows arched in mad amusement at the situation, because he could hardly answer the fuckin' question like this, could he?
Giovanni was practically shaking, his grip around Badou's throat flexing in a way that could almost have been called nervous but really, wasn't what he wanted to do kill the damn bastard? Harsh, pained gasps left his mouth as the blonde tried to catch his breath, momentarily still where he was crouched over the redhead, every single parts of his body screaming out in pain. "-Why?" The fingers tightened slightly around the other's neck before (almost involuntarily) loosening again, gritting his teeth so tightly it hurt. "-Why?"
Looking up into that demanding, blood-covered face, the cracked orange sunglasses, Badou's tense body shook harder with laughter. As the pressure on his trachea loosned, he gulped air frantically, feeling the cuts on the right side of his face protest at the facial movement. "I don't- fucking know-" he gasped, his manic grin desperate, eyebrows knitting together in something akin to an apology, to an entreaty. "I don't fucking know, man."
Another minute or so passed, the blonde's mouth set in a hardpained half-grimace half-snarl, his fingersgriphands flexing around Badou's throat ever-so-slightly. With all the blood covering his face (running down into his eyes trickling down his chin) it was next to impossible to really tell Giovanni's expression for what it was (hateangerfearannoyancelost) before the blonde sort of jerked back, letting out a small grunt of pain as he slid off the redhead and onto the toy-covered floor beside him. "-I don't get it." He gasped out, trying to catch his breath, the gunshot wounds still twinging in pain.
Chest heaving, Badou let out a half-deranged bark of a laugh, light headed and melancholy. "Me fucking- either." His scarred hand jerked down to retrieve his cigarettes, producing a pack completely soaked in blood. With a slow thought process, he pushed his jacket aside, inserted his hand shakily up under his shirt, and moaned. "Fuck, you fucking shot me," he panted, hand coming back as soaked with blood as the carton of smokes. He huffed a frantic laugh. "You fucking shot me because your f-fucking brother likes me better, you fucking dick."
Giovanni fingered his nose gingerly, a hand reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket to pull out a handkerchief, mostly (surprisingly) undamaged from all the blood from the fight. "You shot me first," he shot back, an odd, strangled sort of laughter(growl?) twisting out from his throat. God, it hurt, he couldn't see with all the blood- His hands shook slightly as he raised a hand, reaching under the brokencracked lenses to roughly wipe away some of the blood. The other hand tightened a little uncertainly around the kerchief, before he (his face still turned away from the redhead) sort of thrust the crumpled bit of cloth towards Badou.
"You fucking pulled your-" a quiet, pained gasp, "-gun first, shithead." The corners of Badou's mouth twitched when he registered the handkerchief, but he declined to make an asshole comment [chalking it up to the blood loss]. He took it with twitching fingers, wiping the blood clumsily from his face and hands- his knuckles were raw and ripped from where he smashed them into Giovanni's sunglasses, his teeth. "Fuck," he breathed, tone almost bemused. "Jeeeesus. You're a goddamned fucking psycho." He blinked sluggishly at the ruined handkerchief, wondering what the fuck he was supposed to do with it now. He did know one thing, though. "We can't do this shit."
The blonde retracted his hand back as soon as Badou took the handkerchief, the movement jerky and unsure (but that could also have been the blood loss kicking in, a dull throbbing pain in the back of his head). "You're a goddamned fucking shithead," he sucked in a shortsharp breath of air, reaching up to loosen his tie slightly, before dropping his hands on his lap. All the shallower wounds were closing up, the hissing sound barely heard in the aftermath of them both trying to get some oxygen into their lungs. Giovanni glanced at the redhead out of the corner of his eye, showing blood-stained teeth in a sort of grin. "I know."
"If you really want," Badou managed, slowly, his hand bunching his jacket to his side, trying to stem the bleeding, "him to stop hating you, stop fucking with us. F-for a while, he wasn't completely against trying-" he hacked a hard cough, spitting a mix of blood and brownish-grey phlegm onto the floor, right in front of Baby's First Dolly. "I think I'm gonna pass out soon," rasped the redhead, almost pleasantly. "Don't have sex with my unconcious body or anything, okay?"
There was a short silence while Giovanni debated between ignoring the redhead and actually listening to what the goddamned drug addict said for once. His hands twitched nervously in his lap again, fingers curling in against the palms of his hands, as he breathed in slowly, twinges of pain making him grimace slightly. "I don't go for fucked up anorexic redheads," the blonde finally muttered out, choosing to not to respond to the first part of what Badou had said, a twitch of something in the corner of his lips before it vanished again.
"Cool," sighed Badou, letting his eye drift close. He felt very much like he wanted to go to sleep, now. A nice nap. Dreams with lots of hot, naked girls, and no fucking asshole little brothers with ugly shades and uglier suits. Yeah, that'd be nice. But- "Gotta smoke?" he groaned, the mania threatening to raise its head again, even in his splayed out, bleeding state. "Just one fuckin' cigarette.."
"You're retarded," the blonde barked out, feeling very much like he would pass out too, the ringing in his head intensifying. He swayed a little from where he was sitting, half-looking down at the redhead sprawled out on the floor beside him. "I don't smoke," Giovanni started, the tone a little bit incredulous, a little bit amused a little bit annoyed. He reached over Badou with slight difficulty, a hand closing around the bloodied pack of cigarettes, spilling them on the tiles as he shook out the bloodied, ruined cancer sticks. "Fuck," the blonde growled and finally gave up, picking one relatively-undamaged and roughly pressing it between Badou's lips. "Asshole."
Badou's murky green eye, liberally splattered with blood, fixated on Giovanni's cracked shades so intensely it was almost easy to forget he was likely to black out in the near future. He produced a lighter from wherever it was that he stashed them, and with torn, exhausted hands, lit up. His eye half closed, the intake of breath painful, but the smoke so fucking good. Slowly, tentatively, like a mother bird letting her chicks out of the nest for the first time, he let the first delicious puff fly free.
"Ah," he sighed, the smoke curling upwards. "Back to the land of the fuckin' living." Feeling a sharp twinge in his side, and noticing his vision was starting to go a little purple around the edges, he ammended, "For now, anyway."
Giovanni grimaced a little and leant back, waving a hand in front of his face to disperse of the cigarette smoke now curling up around them. It was also, even though he didn't really want to admit it, because of the intensity of the single green eye fixed on his face. "I can't believe you," the blonde muttered, carefully keeping his gaze away from Badou as he wiped the pooling trickle of blood from his eyes again, wiping it on his suit jacket afterwards; it was ruined enough, anyway, no point in trying anymore. A short pause. "-Do you need any," another pause, while Giovanni visibly stiffened a little, forcing the word out from his lips as if it were an insult instead. "-help."
"Would you actually give me any?" rasped the redhead amusedly, a harsh- but sane- bark of a laugh forcing its way past his teeth, which were beginning to chatter. "Or is that a general question, a fucking dig at my psychological st-" All of a sudden, whatever remaining colour there had been on his face drained, and his shit-eating-grin faltered. His voice was low, a small breath through gritted teeth, when he spoke again. "Fuck."
Badou's voice sounded different, the blonde could tell; the manic tinge (ever-present cackling) was all but gone from his voice. Giovanni half-turned from where he was sitting, twisting slightly to look down at the redhead on the floor. There was so much blood, Giovanni couldn't even tell just how much of it was the redhead's. "Yes, fuck." The blonde shook his head slightly and frowned, slowly, stiffly, getting to his knees, staring down at Badou again. "I could just leave you here to die, you know." His voice was quiet, almost barely heard, but there was no hint of any joking in it.
The taller man smoked, feeling tired, feeling cold, and feeling much more aged than his mere nineteen years. "You could," Badou rasped, a crooked smirk on his thin lips. "It's what I would do. Then again, I'm not some regenerative starfish-" he shuddered, hard, limbs half curling in on his side, "f-freak sh-show, eh?"
A momentary frown crossed the blonde's face (a little uncertain, a little tense, flickeringflitting past his face so fast it was hard to tell) before he got up without a word, walking away from the redhead silently, his footsteps clicking a little on the tiled floor.
In a while, though, the steps returned, and Giovanni was (rather irritably, since he had no fucking idea why he was doing this, even) pulling Badou up, reaching down to the redhead's wounded side and pressing a bunch of the cotton doll dresses he'd pulled off some rack somewhere. "Shut up," he growled out, his grip tight on Badou's wrist as he slung it across his own shoulder, staggering a little under the weight, he himself limping slightly. "Don't even say a word-"
And Badou actually did not. However, this was probably due to the fact that he was passed out cold.
He drooled on Giovanni's shoulder the whole way home.
by
optimus_fridge